


don't get no rougher

by ymorton



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 00:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11771529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: white house era late night jontommy filth





	don't get no rougher

**Author's Note:**

> please dont show this to anyone involved. we're all just having fun on the titanic rn please be chill. 
> 
> title from the ultimate jontommy tune, "got you where i want you" by the flys

Tommy wakes up with a start, heart racing. The dream’s already fading away- something about California, about a beach in California with Tommy up to his neck in the cool water and the sky changing from blue and sunny to dangerously dark, wind whipping. Favs was on the shore yelling to him but Tommy couldn’t hear. 

He breathes slow like he’s practiced- in, out, focusing on the feeling. Jon is asleep next to him, one big arm slung over Tommy’s pillow, snoring into the sheets. Tommy checks the clock. 2:22 AM.

He’s rolling out of bed to get himself a glass of water when he hears Favs stir. 

“Tommy?” 

“Yeah, man.” Tommy rubs his hand over his face. “Sorry. Just getting water.” 

Favs is squinting at him, cheek pressed into the pillow. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, go back to sleep.” 

But Favs rolls over onto his back instead, fumbling for another pillow to shove under his head.

“Nightmare?” he asks, voice froggy from sleep. 

Tommy ignores that and steps into the bathroom, not turning the light on. He fills up a Dixie cup and knocks it back in one shot, does that twice more, and then peers at his reflection in the darkness. 

Favs is still awake when Tommy gets back into bed. He’s scrolling through his phone, held above his head, yawning.

Tommy lies on his back too, staring up at the ceiling.

“What’d you dream about?” Favs asks, yawning so hard Tommy can hear his jaw squeak. 

“California,” Tommy says truthfully.

“Yeah?”

Tommy closes his eyes. He can still see the glow of Favs’ phone, though. “Are you going back to sleep?” 

“Yeah, man, just. He sent edits.” 

“Put your fucking phone away.” Tommy laughs. “It’ll be there in the morning.” 

Jon keeps scrolling, and Tommy reaches over to fumble for the phone. “ _Jon_.”

“Sorry,” Jon says absently. “Just- oh, shit, I knew he was gonna change that part-”   

“Come on,” Tommy says, laughing, turning over and pushing himself up on his elbow. He grabs for the phone, and Jon tosses it aside, tucks his hands behind his head and grins. 

Tommy sighs. “I’m like fully awake now, asshole.”

Favs is still grinning at him. There’s a hickey on his neck that Tommy must have put there, right below his collarbone. He’ll be able to cover it with a shirt tomorrow.

Favs sees him looking and thumbs at the mark absently. “If Axe starts making fun of me for this tomorrow you’re buying me dinner.”

Tommy would buy him dinner anyway, if Favs wanted him to, but he doesn’t say that. “Sorry.”

“If you can’t sleep, maybe we should, like.” Favs raises an eyebrow. “Like go again. If you want.” 

Tommy glances at the clock. “Now?” 

Favs isn’t smiling anymore. He nods, red-faced, and Tommy reaches out to touch the mark on his collarbone. He presses his fingers down and Favs swallows.

“Tommy,” he mumbles. 

"Okay,” Tommy says. "Turn over." 

“Shit,” Favs mumbles, but he turns over just like that, hugging the pillow beneath him. It’s late and dark so Tommy gives himself a minute to just look. Favs’ body is solid and broad, familiar. Tommy touches the muscles in his back, runs his hand down to his ass, and Favs shivers. 

“You’ll be sore tomorrow,” he says. Favs looks back at him, incredulous, but his eyes are starting to glaze like before, right after he came with Tommy’s dick inside him, when he went all quiet under Tommy, slack and blissed out. That was when Tommy sucked that bite into his neck. He couldn’t help it with Favs looking like that. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Favs says, licking his lips, laughing. “Though that’s very noble of you, thanks, Tommy.”

Tommy’s not noble. You can’t be noble and see some of the things he sees.  

“You’re gonna be sore sitting there in the fucking West Wing tomorrow,” he says, his voice feeling weird and blank like when he has to bend the truth to reporters. He watches the flush crawl up Favs’ neck. “Sitting there thinking about this. Pretending to work.” 

He palms Favs’ ass again, squeezing him. Favs shifts in the sheets. “Tommy,” he mutters.

Tommy rubs at himself in his boxers, nudging Favs’ legs apart.

“You think anyone can tell?” he asks, running his fingers between Favs’ cheeks, gentle. Favs puts his face in the pillow, mumbles out something unintelligible. “That you’re getting fucked and you fucking like it?”

“Tommy,” Favs breathes again, head turning to the side so he can gasp out a breath. “Fuck.”

“Probably, dude,” Tommy says, breath catching. He doesn’t even know what the hell he’s saying, it’s just- talking shit like they always do, except Favs is bright red and his muscles are quivering under Tommy’s hands. He pinches Favs’ cheek, digs his fingers in til the skin goes red and then white when he lets go, and Favs curses, shifts his hips again. 

“You like that?”

Favs groans a yes.

Tommy smacks his ass hard, on instinct, and Favs whimpers. He turns his face to look back at Tommy, looking scared or hungry or both.

“Too much?” Tommy asks, swallowing, shaking his hand out. It's stinging. He can see the red rising on Favs’ skin.

“No,” Favs says hoarsely, after a long second. He puts his face down again, back stiff as a board.

Tommy takes him at his word and hits him again, just as hard, the other cheek this time. Favs grabs the sheets in one fist and groans. 

“Jesus,” Tommy breathes. There’s a handprint on each of Favs’ pale cheeks and Tommy puts his hands over the marks and pulls him apart, exposes his hole, still swollen from the first round. Favs makes an embarrassed sound against the pillow. 

“You like that,” Tommy says, genuinely curious. It’s hot to find things Favs is into, because Favs won’t admit to any of them. Or maybe he genuinely doesn’t know. His body reacts so easy, though. It’s so easy to tell. A couple weeks ago Tommy was blowing him, Favs’ knees spread as he sat on the couch, and when Tommy leaned to the side to suck a bite into Favs’ inner thigh Favs kicked out so hard he stubbed his toe on the ottoman. They stopped to laugh for a second and then they went to the safety of Jon’s big plush bed and Tommy did it again, dragged his teeth up the inside of Favs’ thigh until Favs was wriggling away from his mouth, gasping, leaking precome on his stomach.

But- this. Tommy didn’t know Jon would be into this.

He hits Favs again, a solid smack right where his thighs meet his ass. Favs chokes a breath and takes it, steadies himself. Tommy hits him again, baring his teeth, and one more time right over the first handprint, and finally Favs twists his neck to look at him and says shakily, “Tommy, fuck, fuck.”

Tommy stops hitting him, drags his fingertips carefully over Favs’ ass, hot to the touch. “You still - you still want it? Might hurt.”

Favs turns away from him again and nods, hips shifting. Tommy touches gently right between his shoulder blades, and reaches over to fumble in the nightstand.

\---

Favs doesn’t mind the pain at all. Tommy goes gentle at first and then harder and Favs just keeps fucking taking it, keeps pushing back against him for more. 

“Jesus, you love this,” Tommy says, awed, and Favs flops his face in the pillow again, making a muffled sound that makes Tommy want to fuck him harder and faster. He didn’t know how good that’d be, hearing Favs make noise for him. He usually doesn’t care about that, has to try not to cringe at girls who scream or sound like porn. But Favs moaning against the pillow because Tommy’s inside him is- something else. Tommy leans down, gets deeper, starts to roll his hips.

“Oh fuck,” Favs mumbles, squirming away and closer at the same time, like he’s crawling in place. He thumps a fist against the bed, once, twice. “Oh, fuck.”

He’s as hot and tight as the first time they did this, months ago now, on a rare night off when they were snowed in and finishing off a bottle of whiskey. Tommy went so slow that night, because Favs was shaky, looking at Tommy wide-eyed the whole time like he couldn’t believe it was happening to him. Tommy had to keep asking him if he liked it, and every time Favs said yes his voice went deeper and quieter until he was just breathing it out, over and over, eyes closed. Like he was praying. _Yes yes yes_.

Tommy was trying to take it slow but they fucked again the next morning, after Tommy woke up to the sight of Favs’ long back and bare ass as he peered out of the window at the blanket of white outside. It was barely dawn and everything was quiet and Favs climbed back into bed, eyes puffy, grinning and shy. Tommy meant to kiss him, just to kiss him, but his hands slipped down to Favs’ ass and Favs pressed his morning wood against Tommy’s thigh and, well. He turned Favs over onto his belly and opened him up again and wasn't as gentle that time. 

Favs starts to make those low grunts that mean he’s close. He has a hand between his dick and the sheets, rubbing furiously, not enough room to jack himself off properly with Tommy’s weight on him. 

Tommy inhales, shuts his eyes and starts to talk. It’s the best kind of trial and error, figuring out what kind of things will make Favs moan back at him and which things will make him go silent with hot shame.

“You’re so tight, man, fuck,” he says, voice shaky. That gets a groan out of Favs, a nice long shiver down his body that Tommy feels around his dick. “So fucking tight, shit. Feel so good.”

He braces himself on Favs’ strong back, lets Favs feel all his weight, and Favs pushes back against him. Tommy can see his wrist, can feel how Favs is trying so hard to get himself off. It’s stupid hot, watching Favs work to come. 

“Fucking- tight,” Tommy groans again, brain melting a little. He presses his face against the back of Favs’ neck, smells him, feels him. Favs is so warm. “Your ass, Jon, Jesus, I love fucking you.” 

Favs is so close, gone silent, jaw clenched, hand working furiously between his legs. Tommy can feel him waiting for it. 

“Come on, man,” he manages to say, thrusting in again hard. “Come on my dick, man. Show me how much you like it.” 

Favs grunts again, forehead digging into the bed. 

“Show me,” Tommy gasps again, reaching under them, fumbling for Favs’ hard dick. “C’mon, baby." 

That’s new, he hasn’t - but Favs whimpers and his breath catches and he comes. Tommy drops his hot face to Favs’ sweaty back and thrusts in once, twice more and follows him. 

Favs is quiet and still when Tommy surfaces, breathing slow under him. Tommy leans over to check if he’s asleep and Favs blinks at him, sheepishly. 

“Hey,” he says. His voice is shot. He coughs. “Sorry.” 

Tommy touches his short bristly hair, his damp forehead. His soft swollen bottom lip. “Why the fuck are you sorry?” 

Favs shrugs, shuts his eyes. Like it was just a reflex. He’s so fucking Catholic. 

“That was hot,” Tommy says. He lifts himself up and off him. This part’s weird, because Tommy’s such a fucking monogamous sadsack he always wants to fall into being a boyfriend about it: cleaning Favs up gently, getting him water, kissing him til he falls asleep. 

Favs rolls onto his back, letting out a little grunt at the effort, shifting in the sheets until he’s comfortable. He shuts his eyes, tucks a hand behind his head. 

“Sore?” Tommy asks, meaning it seriously, but it comes out flip. 

Favs huffs a laugh and gives him the finger. “Yeah, Tommy, you made your point. Morning meeting’s gonna be hell.” 

Tommy has to lean down and kiss him then, because Favs is pretending to be mad and utterly failing, eyes nearly closed with how hard he’s grinning. He strokes Favs’ stubbly cheek and kisses him softly. Favs’ eyes fall shut and his mouth falls open and he lets Tommy suck his tongue. Jesus, that’s addictive. 

Tommy makes himself pull back after a minute, peeks over at the clock. Fuck, it’s past three. 

“I’m never setting an alarm again after we leave the White House,” Favs says, breaking off at the end to yawn. “Never fucking again.” 

That's never been the problem for Tommy, at least not in the last few years. He wakes up ten minutes before his 5:15 alarm most mornings, lies there in half-awake misery scrolling blindly through his emails until it’s time to get up. 

He’ll still sleep like shit when they quit, but maybe he won’t feel as fucking wrecked as he does when he has to force himself upright after four spotty hoursand talk convincingly about terrifying things that make him want to crawl right back into bed. He can hope, at least. 

He reaches over to gulp his water, and Favs beckons for the glass, wincing as he sits up gingerly. Tommy notices and doesn’t say anything. 

When Favs is done he flops in bed on his belly. 

“Night,” he says, muffled. Tommy can see the fading marks from Tommy’s hand. It does something to his chest, makes him feel restless, seeing that and not knowing what the fuck they’re doing. 

_He’s your best friend,_ Tommy reminds himself, a mantra he's been playing over and over lately, when Favs is screaming at the Pats game with him or reaching over to steal bites of Tommy's takeout or bringing Tommy coffee in Lower Press. All the shit they've always done. There's just- this, now. 

He reaches out and touches the flushed skin of Favs' ass. Favs shivers a little. 

“Night, Jon,” he says quietly, pulling the sheet up so it settles lightly against his back. He waits until Favs is asleep and snoring before he creeps out of bed. It’s close enough to morning and he knows he won't get back to sleep. 

Maybe once they leave the White House. Maybe once they're in California. Tommy'll sleep in California. 

 


End file.
